


Distant Daylight

by Tinytokki



Series: Treasure (The Pirate Chronicles of ATEEZ) [8]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: ATEEZ (Band) Are Pirates, Action/Adventure, Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Angst, Backstory, Big Brothers, Brother Feels, Brotherhood, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brothers, Character Death, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Children, Crimes & Criminals, Death, Drama, Explosions, Family Drama, Fate & Destiny, Fights, Fist Fights, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, Humor, Organized Crime, Origin Story, Orphanage, Orphans, Parent Death, Pirates, Poverty, Protective Older Brothers, Protective Siblings, Siblings, Street Rats, Survival, Theft, Violence, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2020-10-25 18:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20729099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinytokki/pseuds/Tinytokki
Summary: Newly orphaned Yunho and his younger brother Gunho navigate life in the orphanage and on the streets with the modest goal of survival driving them forward. With the promise of harsh winter and the threat of separation looming, what Yunho thought was the end of his life turns out to be the beginning.





	1. i

Fire.

From far away, it looked pretty. Twinkling flashes of light in the distance, gradually advancing with a bouncing vivacity. 

Yunho was supposed to be in bed, and the hairs on his neck tingled with apprehension. Any moment his parents could return from their night on the town and catch him perched at the window, peering outside at the sparkles that floated towards him. The beauty of it took his breath away, and fogged up the glass. He scrubbed the cloudy patch away with an oversized sleeve and checked over his shoulder that Gunho was still sleeping.

The small form of his younger brother gently rose and fell with his breaths. Yunho considered waking him to share the view of embers drifting past, but a part of him enjoyed the private show too much and wanted to keep it to himself. Soon, flames licked at the rooftops at the end of the street to finally be extinguished by a black clad mass of military men and their water buckets. 

Yunho’s eyelids were heavy, and soon his neck was sore from craning out the window and his elbows twinged in protest at his resting on them. He rolled over onto his back and let his eyes fall shut. Sleep descended on him and he decided in the back of his mind that he ought to ask his parents tomorrow if they saw the shining display outside that night.

He woke to the cheerful chirping of birds perched on a tree outside his bedroom, heralding in the early spring morning. It seemed like any other morning as the sun came up, stirring all the creatures nestled in darkness. 

Yunho remembered he wanted to ask about the spectacle outside his window last night and made for his parents’ room first, passing over a still sleeping Gunho. It was untouched, the bed still made. But this didn’t concern Yunho. He was observant for an eight year old, and he knew his mother habitually made the bed first thing after getting out of it. Heeding the grumbling of his own stomach, and reasoning that his parents had probably gone to breakfast and allowed him to lie in, he headed next to the dining hall.

The large room was completely empty. Timidly, he called out “Hello?” only to hear his own voice echo back at him off the high vaulted ceilings. He caught the patter of feet from the kitchens and turned his head in time to see Jaein, one of the servants, approach him with a horrified look on her face. “Miss Jaein?” He asked, slowly backing away as she continued toward him at her brisk pace. “What’s wrong, Miss Jaein?” She was still looking at him like he had sprouted wings. Her gaze held a mixture of deep pity and terror, and her breathing was loud and nervous.

“Yunho, dear...” Her voice shook and she had to gulp past a catch in her throat. “I think you’d better go back to bed now.” “But why?” He asked her, still backing away slowly. “Isn’t breakfast ready? I didn’t miss it, did I?” He knew it was much too early for lunch, but he had to account for everything. Jaein shook her head slowly, still staring holes into him. He was becoming scared now. “I think you’d better go back to bed,” she told him again, still advancing. “Where is everyone?” Yunho whispered, his back against the doorpost now. Jaein said nothing, but reached out to grab Yunho’s arm in hers. Yunho ducked this, and bolted out of the room and into the hallway just outside.

He asked himself what the trouble could be, why the house was so quiet, why Miss Jaein was acting so strangely, and why he couldn’t find his parents. The sinking feeling that he knew what had happened settled into his stomach. He ran from room to room, trying to eliminate the possibility… that one impossible possibility. There was a faint cry from outside— from the front of the house. He dashed for that direction as quickly as his legs would carry him. Sure enough, as he flung open the massive door, a thick crowd of family and strangers alike stood, silent as mouses, and staring at something concealed by their own shifting bodies. It was another servant who had cried out, but it wasn’t in pain, as he spotted her sobbing into her husband’s jacket desperately. 

Yunho wandered up to the crowd, trying to identify anyone else. It felt as if a stone had just dropped into his gut. Several servants were shaking their heads and muttering to themselves, and the various children of the town had their faces pressed against aprons and waistcoats, their parents hiding them from whatever horror it was that everyone was staring at. His throat closed up. He had scanned the crowd and found no sign of his parents.

Yunho steadied himself and was about to push past some of the taller spectators to see the object of their attentions, when a shout came from behind that startled everyone. “Yunho!” Jaein yelled from the front path. “Somebody catch Yunho!” He caught a choked breath and readied to evade as villagers swivelled around, looking for the boy that had walked in, escaping their notice. It was sharp-eyed Jaein who found the bewildered child as she jogged up to the crowd and grasped him by the arm.

“Don’t look, child.” He felt her tears falling on to his hair as his face was pressed into her apron. “For heaven’s sake, don’t look.” He didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to face it, but at the same time he needed to see, he needed to know. He wriggled his way out of her grasp and to the front of the crowd, where a row of figures lay lined up on the street. Yunho’s trembling increased tenfold. It couldn’t be true...it couldn’t be...They’re just sleeping, I’m sure of it, he told himself. But he knew in his heart that they were not. And so he knelt by the dead forms of the two nearest motionless figures. His parents.

Yunho reached out to touch them. The pure cold lifelessness was such a shock to him that he jerked his hand back. Instead he stared into their eyes, then laid his head down on their chests one by one. Again, he lifted his head in horror. He sat back on his heels and took in a shaky breath. His father usually had such a comforting scent. When Yunho hugged his mother he was normally soothed by her presence. But it was all gone. There was no steady heartbeat to listen to, no soft lullabies to sing him to sleep. There was only pale, ash-covered skin, sightless eyes, and lifeless lips. There was only death.

Yunho’s rapid breathing gave way to a shriek of disbelief that startled the servants into action. It took three of them to drag him away, kicking and screaming in Jaein’s arms, and finally the crowd was invigorated. The Jeong household employees hastily went back inside, bringing the two bodies to lay in a back room and leaving the rest of the crowd to carry away their dead. Yunho weakly stretched a hand over Jaein’s shoulder, hoping his parents would stand up and take it, hoping it was a trick, or a joke, or something. He could only reach out helplessly as he was carried away, struggling. Yunho was deposited on his bed and finally cried himself into an exhausted sleep. 

He awoke much as he had that morning, with few thoughts in his head and the usual peace of mind that comes with a few hours of dreamless sleep. The truth hit him like a brick when he sat up to see Jaein crying in a seat in the corner, with little Gunho wrapped up in her arms, looking at him anxiously. 

“What time is it?” Yunho whispered. “Just past noon. Have you eaten today?” Yunho shook his head. Wasn’t that obvious? He didn’t dare look Jaein in the eyes as he asked his next, and last, question. “Are they really... Did they really...?” Jaein nodded as tears took her again. “They’re gone,” she said, pulling Gunho close. Yunho looked at his confused little brother and did not cry. He looked out the window at the tree where birds played, and life still went on, heedless of the end of the world.


	2. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world would have to pry his cold, dead hands off of his little brother before he gave in.

The panic that sets in when one is kept waiting for life changing news had become a way of life for Yunho in the past 24 hours. 

First, “your parents have been killed in the revolt last night.”

“But they weren’t in any revolt,” little Gunho whispered, heartbroken. “They only went out for supper.” Of all the injustices the pair went on to experience, this would always be the worst. 

Second, “none of your extended relations have the means to take you on.” 

Yunho supposed later that he couldn’t fault their remaining family for this. Times were hard, there was rarely enough to go around, and his own parents had been better off financially than anyone else in the family. But, as an eight year old... to be forced to stand outside his own house while government officials came and carted away all of his parents’ possessions because they “belonged to the state now” was an experience that created a fire in his chest. One that burned low but brightly for years and years to follow. 

Miss Jaein stood alongside them, a protective hand on one shoulder each. She had just been “let go” by the lanky, scowling man in uniform. He fidgeted with his hat and darted his eyes back and forth, as if this house was one in a long line of properties to be stolen by the city council. “I’m on your side,” the woman gave an extra squeeze on the two bony shoulders. “I’ll always come for you if you need me.” 

Instructed to pack her things and go, Miss Jaein took her bag in hand and walked away. Yunho didn’t see her for many years after that. He struggled to see the furniture being carried out over the imposing black coat of the city councilman. The gleam of polished silver reflected back at him and his heart fell as he realised not a single heirloom could be kept for sentimental value. Anything and everything would be taken away for the King, or whoever else had need of it.

“Father’s chair...” Gunho’s whine was almost too quiet to hear, but Yunho squeezed his brother’s hand in response, casting his eyes away from the procession and waiting to be addressed by the officials who had custody of them now. To his dismay, it was the ashen-faced black coat man who looked down his long nose at them and simply ordered, “Get in the carriage.” 

Third, “you and your brother are to live in the orphanage.” News that came halfway through the ride there.

Yunho stared daggers at the man, who seemed not to care and went rhythmically through the documents in his case one by one, looking down his sharp nose as always. It wasn’t the officer’s fault, and Yunho supposed later he couldn’t fault him anymore than his extended relations for his hand in their tragedy, but in that moment the flames burned hot and angry. His hold tightened on Gunho, who was watching, damp-eyed, as trees flew by.

The orphanage looked like it came out of a storybook. The proportions were clearly planned out to perfection, an intimidating symmetry in tall walls and tiny windows. If there was an area for children to play outside, it must be in the back because Yunho saw only the dark brick exterior and the curated shrubbery on his way up the front path, Gunho attached to his side like a newborn babe.

The pair were nudged along by the tall officer behind them and entered the drafty building with breath held tightly, locked up in their chests where no one could steal it. “This is the Headmaster.” He was also tall, and Yunho had to crane his neck up to see his face. As soon as he did, he averted his eyes back down. Only a shining pair of spectacles peeked out from the man’s small red face. He looked like someone had pinched his cheeks for too long, although Yunho couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to pinch this man’s cheeks. Gunho squeezed his hand harder, if that was possible. 

The boys were guided to an elaborately upholstered sofa that was too tall for their feet to touch the ground. As Gunho swung his legs distractedly, Yunho peeked at the surroundings of the Headmaster’s office. It was dusty and old, with a strange smell that emanated probably from the books lining the walls and stacked on the floor. They were fragile and neglected, and Yunho could tell instantly that the man kept them only for show if they were so unused. What he actually did with his free time was a mystery.

When the adults were done discussing whatever it was they needed to, Yunho once again held his breath. It was time to be officially passed off to the next entity that owned them. Shining eyes observed the firm handshake and the exit of the black coat, and then flashed back over to the silent Headmaster.

“Will we be separated?”

“Only speak when spoken to.” The man’s face didn’t change but his voice was sharp and businesslike. Yunho blinked in shock. No one had ever spoken to him that way. He heard Gunho gulp from his side and rubbed his clenched fingers reassuringly. “That remains to be seen,” the Headmaster finally said, beckoning for the boys to follow after him as he swept down the hallway and into the main hall, talking as he went. “If anyone shows interest in adopting either of you, their wishes will prevail. If not, you both remain here until you come of age. I will allow you to stay in the same room unless you cause trouble. Be warned that misbehaving will be strictly punished. Our children are disciplined above all else.” They could stay in the same room.

One small mercy in the sea of tragedies.

Any thought Yunho had of thanking the pragmatic man dissipated on reaching the main hall. The Headmaster hadn’t been exaggerating when he claimed to value discipline above all else. Ten rows of perfectly postured children, ranging in age, were situated at the dining tables in the great hall. Not a sound could be heard above the click of the Headmaster’s own feet on the wood floor and Gunho’s laboured breathing as he tried to keep up. 

“Children.”

200 heads turned to inspect the new meat. 

“These are our new arrivals. They’ll stay in the east wing. Make them welcome.” With that, the Headmaster nodded his head insistently at the empty space on the bench to their right, a clear sign that the two new arrivals were to take a seat for the midday meal.

Yunho practically dragged Gunho to the vacant spot, eyes on the plate in front of him as he felt the eyes of his neighbours bearing down on him and his brother. Taking every situation one moment at a time, that was how they would survive. That was their life now.

And yet the fire burned in his chest at the injustice of it all.

Neither boy spoke to anyone as food arrived and was passed around and conversation filled the room. No one tried to speak to them, and so they spoke to each other with glances and hand squeezes. 

Food was bland, and the water tasted strangely off but Yunho scarfed it down. Crying all morning had made him hungry, and he didn’t realise until that moment that neither of them had eaten all day. As soon as the food was cleared away, he was uncertain what to do. He and Gunho followed a solemn woman up to the east wing where they would be staying. Other boys played in the hallways and the common areas, and Yunho kept a watchful eye on them, instantly afraid of being picked on. 

The room they were led to was large, bunkbeds lining the walls, small windows interspersed. There was a fireplace at one end of the room, and dressers lined up at the other end. Yunho had to admit it wasn’t bad. He had been expecting a cramped closet of sorts, perhaps with some blanket padding to substitute for a bed. 

He let Gunho scurry over and pick a bed for himself and then selected the bunk underneath. At some point the woman left them and their things to attend to children elsewhere. There were a few boys in the room, playing games or chatting amongst themselves. No one spoke to the two new arrivals when they entered, but their conversations hushed to a whisper. 

Nothing else to do, Yunho stretched out on the stiff mattress and scanned the bottom of Gunho’s bunk above him. Gunho was shuffling around, and each movement knocked some wood shavings off the crossbeam and onto Yunho’s face. He sighed and sat up. At least his head didn’t hit the bed. Annoyed with the debris falling onto him, he climbed up into Gunho’s bed to ask him to stop fidgeting so much.

The boy spun to face him, wide-eyed and red-handed. He was hiding something under his pillow. “What’s that?” Yunho whispered, barely a breath slipping past his lips. He was already reaching for it. “Mother’s music box...” Yunho traced his fingers over the delicate carvings on the side of the tiny box, before slowly prying open the lid. “I grabbed it before they sent us away,” Gunho whispered, his voice shaking and watery. Yunho reached for his hand again and held it firmly, still gazing at the box as it started to play.

A faint tune twinkled out as the lid raised high enough to trigger it. It was one from his earliest memories, a haunting little song his mother sang him to sleep with. Only when he begged and begged would she take it out and play it in later years, always with the utmost care and reverence. His heart sank as the tune came to a close. It ended so brightly, happily. But still it ended, and Yunho wanted it to play forever and ever. Everything was alright when the song twinkled on, as if his parents were right there with him, playing it after he whined and tugged on their sleeves. Yunho saw his own tear-streaked face in the tiny mirror and snapped it closed.

“Keep it safe,” he instructed. “We can’t let anyone find it.” He couldn’t imagine what would happen should any of the other orphans find it. They could sell it, or worse... He shook his head to empty it. Again, tears began leaking from his brother’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have, but they were going to take it, those men, and it doesn’t belong to them. It- it’s Mother’s and she would... she would want us to have it...”

Yunho felt the eyes on them, but pulled his brother close, whispering sweet nothings to dry his eyes. The boy still shook like a leaf. “It’s going to be alright.” He had no idea if it would be alright. But he knew as Gunho’s sobs slowed that nothing could separate them. They would get through it together. 

“I’m her Gunho. I’ll always be here.”

For hours, they remained like that. Neither releasing their hold on the other, even as they were led again to the main hall to eat dinner and lick their plates clean shyly. 

Neither could bear to be alone the first night, so Gunho crawled into Yunho’s bed, music box carefully stowed away where no one would discover it. Yunho didn’t sleep, even when his brother’s dry sobs evened into trembling breaths which evened into peaceful slumber. If Yunho was all alone, he wasn’t sure he could do this. Lie in bed, staring into the dark and praying to wake up from this dream, Mother rubbing his back and telling him it was only a nightmare. Yunho didn’t think he could survive this if he didn’t have Gunho.

Gunho was the reason for Yunho to be strong, to hold the tears and the agony at bay. It was Gunho that kept Yunho’s mind churning and his heart beating, his motivation to get through whatever would be thrown at them next.

That first 24 hours squeezed Yunho’s heart in a way that pained him and pushed him to his limit. But he meant what he had said to Gunho. He would be there with him and for him, and he would not be moved. The world would have to pry his cold, dead hands off of his little brother before he gave in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yunho’s story continues! Sorry it’s not the most action-packed, but the groundwork must be laid so bear with me. Thanks for reading, please leave a comment if you don’t mind, and check out my full series if you want more! As always you may come yell at me on twitter/cc @tiny_tokki


	3. iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nights of laying and trying to picture his mother’s face became nights of plotting revenge for Gunho.

Within the first twenty four hours of living at the orphanage, Yunho discerned how the system worked.

He and Gunho had been placed with the “undesirable” children for some reason. Boys with murdered parents, or abrasive personalities, or disorders or disabilities, or anger issues, or... well, there were some boys that Yunho wasn’t sure why they were in that room at all. They seemed fine.

One such boy was their bed neighbour. He graciously leaned over and shook Yunho awake from the top of his bunk when the caretaker woman came in and blew her whistle.

All the others had jumped out of bed and snapped to attention but Yunho and Gunho were deep asleep and, had it not been for the help of their bed neighbour, would have remained so.

Yunho quickly learned that the orphanage’s strict discipline applied only when their caretakers’ eyes were on them. The children were obediently seen and not heard throughout the entirety of their room inspections and morning lessons. Meals were spent in quiet conversation and so were any supervised recreational activities.

As soon as the eyes were gone, the real orphans came out.

Their bed neighbour showed them how to make their beds and where to put their things, however few they had. Yunho saw this as a kindness and latched on.

Most of the others in their room ignored Yunho and Gunho for the first week.

Eventually their bed neighbour— whose name Yunho had never been confident enough to ask— turned to them one day at lunch and told them to stop following him around.

“Listen, new blood,” he whispered. “You can’t just attach yourselves to me. I’m not even supposed to be in your room, and I’ll be getting out of here soon. Find someone else to bother.”

“Why?”

The first words Gunho had spoken to anyone other than Yunho since arriving.

Their bed neighbour looked surprised to hear him, but shook himself out of it and answered the question.

“Well, I’m going to be adopted.”

That ended the conversation then and there.

Yunho wasn’t sure why this perfectly adoptable boy had been in their room either, but now that he was moving out, they would have to fend for themselves.

It didn’t help that there were a few hours a day when he and Gunho had to be separated. He had fought the caretakers as much as he dared on the matter, but Gunho was younger and he had to play with his age group in recreation time.

He rarely spoke about it, or anything really, but Yunho didn’t like having him out of his sight.

“Yunho!”

Gunho leaned over in the middle of their lesson and Yunho’s heart rate shot up.

“Shh, you’ll be punished.”

“But, hyung,” Gunho pouted up at him and continued. “I have a question.”

Yunho risked a glance at him and pursed his lips. If they got caught whispering, they were in trouble. Trouble of what degree, Yunho wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to try his luck just now.

“Fine. Make it quick.”

Gunho made a face that Yunho couldn’t quite identify as a smile but it was brighter than he’d seen him in the past week, and that was worth all the trouble in the world.

“Why can’t we be adopted?”

Yunho’s jaw hit the floor, and he vaguely registered a strangled noise escape his throat. The boy sitting in front of him turned around and glared at the disturbance.

“Yunho hyung?”

Yunho blinked a few times and cleared his throat before turning his face back down to the textbook in front of him.

It had been a week— a _singular_ week.

And Gunho wanted to be adopted?

“Gunho, why would you ask that?” It came out as barely a whisper, but Gunho was leaning so far out of his chair that he picked it up anyway.

“Well, I was just wondering because, you know, all the other boys in our room aren’t looked at for adoption either. It’s only the boys across the hall. But there isn’t any reason for us to not be adopted is there?”

“I wasn’t aware you _wanted_ to be considered.”

It left Yunho’s mouth more bitter than he intended it, and Gunho shrank away, back into his own seat where his eyes glazed over.

A shameful blush stayed on Yunho’s cheeks the rest of the day.

Just like he did every night, Gunho climbed down from his bunk into Yunho’s as soon as the lights were blown out and the caretakers left. But he didn’t say anything, and the air between them was different.

“I’m sorry,” Yunho whispered into the dark. “All you did was ask a question.”

Gunho poked his head out of the blankets and nodded, studying his brother’s face for a few moments.

“You don’t want to be adopted.”

It wasn’t a question.

Yunho sighed quietly and tried to explain. “What’s so great about adoption anyway? We don’t need new parents, ours were already the best.”

Gunho nodded, hairs brushing Yunho’s chin. “We can’t replace them. We won’t replace them.”

Then why would he care about being adopted?

“Do you not like it here, Gunho?” Yunho’s whisper became even quieter. The caretakers had all gone to bed, and their bed neighbour was asleep. No one could hear them, but still Yunho felt as if the headmaster might jump out from under the bed and point his finger at them.

“I just miss... being home. Playing with my friends. Mother’s cooking. Father’s stories.”

Gunho’s eyes shone in the dark, and tears slipped out as he went on.

“The other boys here aren’t like my friends. No one laughs or tells jokes. The food isn’t yummy and the stories are boring.”

Yunho pulled Gunho closer. He understood. Gunho didn’t really wanted to get adopted, he just wanted to feel like he was in a family again.

This orphanage wasn’t a family, it was a prison.

With each day that passed that first month of spring, Yunho expected the weight on his heart when he awoke every morning to be gone.

But his parents were still dead, and he still didn’t know why, and he was still stuck in this prison doing the same things every day.

Their bed neighbour packed up and left at the end of the second week. He was adopted by a nice old woman and sent out to the countryside.

Yunho didn’t envy him, but Gunho mumbled something about playing out in the sun. He had to admit, living in the countryside with a nice old woman was better than spending every day here.

Lessons weren’t difficult, but then again, Yunho had attended one of the top academies in the kingdom for most of his life. Gunho sometimes struggled with his arithmetic, and Yunho always sat with him at the window and helped him study.

To tell the truth, he wasn’t sure what use arithmetic would be to either of them when all they did was sit around this awful rectangular box called an orphanage.

With their relatively kind bed neighbour gone, Yunho felt the atmosphere in their bedroom change.

There was a tall boy, well built, with a scar on his forehead and short cropped hair who was always staring at Gunho when his back was turned.

He warned Gunho one night to stay away, but there weren’t many places to hide that the bigger boys didn’t know about.

Sure enough, he came back from his free hour one day to see Gunho laying on the bed, crying.

Somewhere between the sobs and gently rubbing his brother’s spine, he heard that the bigger boys had been name calling. Yunho had half a mind to chew them out for it but he knew he’d be in trouble for starting a fight unprovoked, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could take them all anyway.

Nights of laying and trying to picture his mother’s face became nights of plotting revenge for Gunho.

Still, he was helpless to do anything until he came in a couple of days later and found Gunho with a black eye.

He brought him straight to the headmaster’s office.

“And who is it that did this, you say?”

Yunho opened his mouth to answer and realised he didn’t even know the boy’s name.

“If you can’t give me a name, I’m afraid nothing can be proven.”

The indifference with with the headmaster delivered the news was infuriating.

“We can point him out to you!” Yunho was desperate, pulling Gunho forward and presenting his bruised face as evidence. “Look what he did to Gunho, you can’t just let it slide!”

The headmaster put down his reading and gave Yunho a stern look. “I’m the headmaster, I can do whatever I please. Now, out of my office. Come back when you can prove it.”

Yunho was in a sour mood for the rest of his classes. It rained that night, and he lay awake wondering what it would take to get out of this place.

There was a small mercy in the morning when they were all allowed to play outside in their free hour. Gunho was happy to roll around the grass and Yunho could supervise.

The scar face boy made the mistake of walking over.

“What do you want?” Yunho muttered, trying to stand as tall as he could. He was tall for his age, but this bully was taller.

“I don’t like snitches,” the boy sneered at him and motioned for his two friends to grab Gunho. Yunho sprung to his little brother’s side but bounced off one of the goons.

“How did you even find out?” He grabbed the scar face boy by the collar, face growing hot with anger.

“Doesn’t matter. But if you try it again, you’re going to pay.”

Threatening finished, the scar face boy shoved Yunho off of him and made to leave. The other two released a shaking Gunho.

Yunho made it to steps before the scar face boy turned back around. His face gave Yunho pause. Gone was the cool indifference he had been intimidating him with before. Now, he looked angry.

“What did you say to me?”

He made for Gunho, landing a solid kick to his face before the boy could even answer.

“Hey!”

Yunho screamed and tackled the boy as he raised his foot to do it again.

In a flash of fists, he was on top. He didn’t feel the odd blow to his ear or his throat, solely focused on punching the bully while he had him pinned and startled.

He didn’t spare one thought as to what Gunho could have said to make the boy turn around and kick him so violently.

Yunho slammed the boy’s head into the mud and boxed him harder, disregarding the crack that filled his ears.

He punched and punched and punched until his energy began to wane. He didn’t notice that the scar face boy was covered with blood or that he wasn’t fighting back anymore or that Gunho was crying nearby and someone was trying to pull him off.

When he ran out of steam, he let himself be dragged off and dumped in the grass. The red cleared from his eyes and he recognised the caretaker that was shaking him by the shoulders and yelling at him.

Yunho ignored her and looked for Gunho. Gunho was crying on the grass nearby, but he looked like he would be alright.

His eyes shifted to the bloody mess he had just been pummeling.

The boy wasn’t moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s late :(( because I’m st00pid and I accidentally deleted my original draft of this. I hope you enjoyed it anyway and, yes, the main series will be updated soon. In other news; San has won the spinoff vote, so his series is now underway! That’s 4 members I’ll be writing for along with the main series so it might be awhile until I have you guys vote again. Please kudos, comment, and all that good stuff. Ask box is always open and so is my cc @/tiny_tokki on twt


	4. iv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho had what it took. He had the blind anger at the world that could be concentrated into pure power. He had the cleverness to survive from each meal to the next. But what skills he possessed had yet to be honed. There was something he still needed.

Yunho tried not to flinch at the slap delivered across his face. It stung, but the image of that bloody body, unmoving in the dirt, stung worse.

He knew he deserved it for what he did to the scar face boy, but the contempt in the headmaster’s eyes was solid proof that he had lost the only potential ally in this orphanage. Probably forever. His earlier mercy on that first day was forgotten.

It was several moments before steam stopped coming out of his ears and the man finally spoke.

“I’m moving you to the delinquents room in the south wing.”

Yunho looked up at him in shock.

“But you said we wouldn’t be separated—“

“I said you would not be separated if you didn’t cause trouble,” the headmaster was quick to cut him off. “You’ve only been here a month and already you’re starting fights.”

Yunho shook his head and began to plead. The composure he had maintained thus far was thrown out the window when it came to Gunho.

“But I didn’t start it, the boy attacked Gunho first! And he threatened him before, I tried to tell you!”

“Silence! Speak without permission again and I’ll hand you over to the jailhouse instead. They won’t be so forgiving there.”

Yunho’s mouth clicked shut. He was completely helpless again. With his bare hands, he had destroyed everything he had built in the past month. Everything he had done to try to feel normal again.

And worse, he didn’t even know if the scar face boy was alive.

Yunho was roughly escorted back to the east wing to pack up his things.

Gunho sat on his bed and sobbed, begging him not to go. It rent his heart in two because he wanted more than anything to stay, but there was nothing that could be done. The headmaster’s word was final.

That first night in the delinquents room, he pulled the blankets over his head and tried not to cry.

Gunho was sleeping alone without him, and the scar face boy’s friends were probably waiting to finish what he started.

No one would listen to a word out of Yunho’s mouth.

“No one’s going to adopt you now.”

Yunho looked up from where he had been staring across the great hall at Gunho and met eyes with the boy that was looking at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re in the delinquents room,” the boy said matter of factly. “Adopters don’t even glance in our direction.”

Yunho sighed and swallowed a tasteless bite of breakfast. He had figured as much, and it didn’t bother him as much as it ought to. He hadn’t wanted to be considered for adoption anyway.

“There is hope for your brother, though,” the boy went on, mouth full of food and paying no mind to it. “He seems nice and if he masters the pitiful orphan act, he has a chance.”

It was a passing remark from a stranger but it made Yunho’s heart skip a beat, because he was right.

There was a chance that Gunho might be adopted.

He had expressed interest, however briefly, and he was younger, cuter, quieter... not to mention that he didn’t have a delinquency record.

He could very easily be adopted and leave Yunho behind.

As Gunho gazed back at him longingly from the other side of the room, Yunho knew there was no way Gunho would let himself be permanently separated from his older brother.

But perhaps he wouldn’t have a choice.

“My name’s Sangwoo by the way.”

Again Yunho was drawn from the depths of his thoughts to rest his attention on the boy who was talking to him.

“Yunho,” he responded simply. It was hard to tell if this boy was actually being friendly or if he was just pretentious and couldn’t keep his nose out of other people’s business.

He wasn’t willing to toe the line more than he already had with this character. He looked older and bigger and the older boys were intimidating.

“I know,” Sangwoo said cheerfully. “All the others are talking about you.”

Yunho’s eyebrows shot up at this and he peeked at the rest of the delinquents table. “Really?”

“Of course! You’ve only been here a month and you beat another orphan within an inch of his life.”

The fact that Sangwoo and the other teenagers were impressed by this flew over Yunho’s head. “...He’s alive?”

Sangwoo shrugged and returned to his meal. “No one knows. He was moved to a hospital, though, so that means he wasn’t already dead when you finished with him at least.”

Yunho sighed with relief and sat back. It wasn’t a definitive answer but it was better than the bloody image ingrained in his mind alone.

“Your technique could use some work,” Sangwoo was saying. “But then again, you’re, what? Nine?”

“Eight, actually,” Yunho corrected him, ears burning red with embarrassment. He wasn’t hungry for breakfast anymore. 

“And that boy was at least two years older than you, not to mention bigger, so well done for a first fight,” Sangwoo smiled at him. Something in that smile loosened Yunho and he decided to keep talking to him.

“How old are you, exactly?”

“Twelve. My voice hasn’t dropped yet but when it does, I’m going to read scary stories to the little kids,” he winked at him and Yunho frowned back.

“I’m not a little kid.”

“No, you’re not,” Sangwoo agreed, reaching over and ruffling Yunho’s crazy mop of hair. “You wouldn’t be scared, would you?”

Yunho shook his head resolutely.

“I was, at your age,” Sangwoo hummed, more serious now. Like he was remembering something Yunho didn’t know about.

“Did...something scary happen to you at my age?” Yunho’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Sangwoo’s nod indicated that he had heard it.

“My whole life has been a scary story,” came the quiet whisper.

Yunho didn’t get to ask him about it until that night as soon as the caretakers left. He wrapped his blanket around himself and padded over to Sangwoo’s bed.

The two sat there picking at stray threads while Sangwoo told him his life story.

Abandoned as an infant, in and out of orphanages and workhouses— even jail at one point.

“That’s because I stole a matchbox,” Sangwoo chuckled. “I didn’t use it for anything other than a light to read by, but they thought I was going to burn the orphanage down.”

His expression tightened into a grave mask as he entered his preteen years. “A family adopted me. Except it wasn’t because they liked me, they just wanted me to work for them.”

Sangwoo sighed and picked harder at the blanket. “They were downright abusive. And then they had the gall to return me and adopt someone else. I swore never to be adopted again after that.”

Yunho swallowed. So that was what awaited Gunho should he be chosen. 

“What are you planning to do, then?” He asked when there was a pause in the hushed conversation. “What choice is there, apart from adoption?”

“As soon as you’re of age, they release you. Then you go out into the world and... try to make a living, I guess.”

“Without an apprenticeship? Or any inheritance whatsoever?” Yunho remembered from his lessons at the Academy how important these things were.

Sangwoo simply smirked at him. “There are other ways to become someone. As long as you can fend for yourself, you’ll be fine.”

_ As long as you can fend for yourself. _

Yunho had what it took. He had the blind anger at the world that could be concentrated into pure power. He had the cleverness to survive from each meal to the next. But what skills he possessed had yet to be honed. There was something he still needed.

“Sangwoo, will you teach me?”

Through the low light of the lantern sitting between them, Yunho saw Sangwoo smile and nod.

“You’ll become even better than me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I didn’t forget this one ;) So begins the cycle of spinoff updates. If you want to vote for which member gets a spinoff next, hmu on Twitter @tiny_tokki <3 Thanks for reading!


	5. v

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, maybe I don’t want to be a part of this family anymore,” Gunho spat in return, getting to his feet and running back to his room.

“Gunho, you’re not even listening to me.”

“Yes I am,” Gunho whined back, lowering his voice when Yunho shot him a warning glance. It was just after midnight exactly a year after arriving at the orphanage, and Yunho and Gunho had become accustomed to sneaking around at night in order to meet each other unsupervised.

Tonight they huddled in one of the larger food pantries while Yunho tried to show a bored Gunho some self defence moves.

“No you weren’t, you were nodding off,” Yunho argued back. “Come on, what would you rather be doing?”

Gunho pouted at him and flopped over. “I just want to check on Mousey and make sure he didn’t get caught in a trap. He wanders off if I’m not watching him.”

“Mousey?” Yunho deadpanned. “I thought I told you to bring him outside and let him go.” The orphanage was not a very good place to keep pets, especially rodents that may or may not be carrying diseases.

“But it’s cold out there,” Gunho whispered sadly. “I don’t want him to freeze.”

The two of them bickered similarly most nights, so much so that Yunho was worried about the fact that they were becoming so different from each other.

Gunho argued Yunho was growing too harsh and so Yunho told him to keep him soft, a charge that was easier said than done, especially when Yunho was practically living a double life.

“It was warm enough for Sangwoo to sneak out and come back with snacks—“

“Sangwoo, Sangwoo, Sangwoo,” Gunho singsonged. “He’s all you ever talk about.”

“Well,  _ you’re _ all I talk about when I’m with him,” Yunho spluttered defensively.

“So he’s part of our family now?” Gunho crossed his arms and glared at him. “I thought we weren’t getting adopted.”

“It’s not like that,” Yunho sighed, putting his hands out in a placating gesture. “We have to stick together with the older boys, adopting couples can’t be trusted. You heard what they did to Sangwoo. It’s better to be a part of the orphan family.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be a part of this family anymore,” Gunho spat in return, getting to his feet and running back to his room.

Yunho called after him quietly but closed his mouth when footsteps from the opposite end of the hall grew closer. Instead, he closed himself back in and sat among sausage links and fruit crates until the late night wanderer passed by.

They had never fought this bad before.

It was always gentle Gunho and his quiet complaints as he tried to keep up with all the fighting techniques Yunho was showing him.

When the hall had been quiet for long enough, Yunho snuck back into bed, stomach tied in a knot and tears threatening.

What was he doing wrong?

...

“Your stance is weak. Fix your footing.”

Yunho blinked away a daydream and turned his ankle until it was the way it was in the correct position.

“Better,” Sangwoo said with a nod. He was usually quite a blunt teacher, so this amount of encouragement from him meant something was up.

“You seem different,” Yunho grunted, throwing a punch that was dodged. “What’s going on?”

“It’s not me, it’s you,” Sangwoo responded, dodging again. “You’re distracted by something.”

So he was accommodating to Yunho’s mood.

Yunho’s surprise left him vulnerable to a kick that he barely avoided.

“Gunho is just cranky these days,” he admitted. No point in holding onto it. “We’ve been growing apart and there’s just—“ he blocked a right hook. “—not much I can do about it.”

“I see,” Sangwoo hummed, throwing up a hand to pause for a water break. “That’s bound to happen when you’re separated, even if you’re just across the hall from each other.”

Yunho nodded in defeat. At this rate, he and Gunho would be strangers by the time he could age out of the orphanage.

“There might be a way for you to meet each other without sneaking around, though,” Sangwoo offered, handing him a cup of water to go with it. “The royal family is travelling here to give a speech at the festival. Probably about the riots that have been going on the past couple of years.”

“My parents died in one of those,” Yunho admitted quietly. He surprised even himself, considering he hadn’t spoken about it since the event, a year of quiet anger and disbelief. “They weren’t even participating, they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Sangwoo rubbed his back gently and muttered some words of encouragement. “Well, if it won’t distress you too much, some of the orphans here have been invited to see the processions. Kind of ironic, if you ask me.”

“Why’s that?” Yunho asked, shaking himself out of his musings.

Sangwoo lowered his voice like he was sharing the juiciest new gossip. “The King is hardly ever seen with his own children. The crown prince rarely makes public appearances, always off doing something or other in the military ranks, and some of the caretakers think it’s because he’s out of favour with his parents. Then there’s the younger prince who never makes public appearances at all. Word has it he’s deformed, some congenital malformation of the limbs. So they keep him hidden away in the palace.”

“Trapped,” Yunho nodded in sympathy. “Sort of like us.”

“Well, at least he’s trapped in luxury and riches,” Sangwoo laughed. “Imagine having servants to do whatever you tell them.”

“And every gourmet chef at your call to cook some delicacy for you!” Yunho chimed in with a smile.

“The most exquisite fashion in your wardrobe and all kinds of balls and parties to wear it to!”

“Grand gardens and greenhouses to explore!”

“Prize horses to ride through the country!”

“Swimming pool-sized bathtubs with rose petals!”

“An ancient library and the best tutors money can buy for education!”

“A golden crown on your head and a floor so shiny you can see yourself in it!”

“And the King and Queen as your parents, tucking you into a warm, comfortable bed every night!”

Yunho paused at this and tilted his head pensively. “Well, I’d rather not have the King and Queen as my parents. Mine were really great.”

“Mine too,” Sangwoo conceded. “And any parents that hide you because they don’t like how you look aren’t fit to be parents.”

Yunho hummed in agreement and then considered Sangwoo’s proposal. “I can bring Gunho if I go with you?”

Sangwoo nodded.

“Alright then. It’ll be nice to get out of this place for a little while.”

...

Just as planned, Sangwoo, Yunho, and Gunho were all present on the day of the parade. They stood inside the headmaster’s office with a chosen few of seven other boys, dressed nicer than they ever had been before, awkwardly waiting for their ride to arrive while the caretakers went around fixing their hair and straightening their posture.

Gunho was uncomfortable around Sangwoo, having never properly met the boy other than through Yunho’s stories and lessons.

Yunho was a much better student for Sangwoo than Gunho was for him, but the point of this trip was to try to spend some time with his brother outside of the orphanage for once, so he did his best to smile confidently at him and ease the atmosphere.

“Remember you absolutely must be on your best behaviour,” the Headmaster cautioned them. “Show the utmost respect to the royal family at all times. Smile and bow when you’re told to.”

As they sat in the back of a cart and watched the trees and houses go by, Sangwoo wiggled out of his tie when the caretakers weren’t looking and tossed it out onto the road. “This is stupid. Dressing us up like a bunch of dolls and showing us off as if they haven’t been overworking and underfeeding the lot of us.”

Yunho agreed verbally but couldn’t help but revel in how shiny his shoes were and how happy Gunho looked bouncing in his seat.

“It’s alright Sangwoo,” he encouraged the older boy. “You’ll be out of the orphanage in no time.”

“Mark my words,” Sangwoo muttered. “I will.”

The streets were crowded and bursting with energy, people standing to one side or another and tripping over each other for a good vantage point.

The group of orphans and their caretakers stood in the square where the parade was set to end. Yunho didn’t really understand why there was a whole entire parade involved in the harvest festival until he was told that the King was supposedly coming to address the riots, but sparing no expense seemed like something the royal family would do anyway.

They were indeed as grand as he had imagined they would be, waving with pleasant smiles and sparkling jewels.

Their attire was probably toned down from the usual splendour a palace celebration would afford, but it was still more beautiful than Yunho had ever seen.

The King’s voice was mellifluous yet strong and he drew the crowd in with his promises and his apologies before grounding them with admonition.

“I know why the people are in chaos here,” he said in a commanding tone. “And I assure you, the royal family and our enforcers have your best interests at heart. Focus now on your harvests and your families. Celebrate the season together and leave this unrest behind you!”

Mixed reactions were had among the crowd but the King’s own men got the festivities in full gear quickly enough with fireworks, music, and traditional foods.

It was the most fun Yunho had had in a long time, even if he didn’t understand half of what the King was saying.

In the chaos and colour of the parade, Yunho lost sight of Sangwoo. The caretakers headcounted the boys as they collected them, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Must have made a run for it,” one of them said to another as they loaded the orphans in the back of the cart. Night was swiftly falling, the royal family had gone, and the continuing frolic was likely to take a turn for the wild with the cover of darkness. “No use looking for him.”

Yunho shuddered and held Gunho close the rest of the ride back.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night,” Gunho whispered, leaning his head against his brother’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean it.” There was still some coloured dust stuck to him and it made him want to sneeze.

Yunho petted his hair to communicate that he understood. It was hard for Gunho these days, without Yunho to help him through school and with bullies breathing down his neck at every turn.

“And about Sangwoo... I’m sorry for that, too,” Gunho added even more quietly.

Tears stung Yunho’s eyes. “I should’ve expected him to run with the way he was talking earlier,” he admitted, a touch of bitterness in his voice. “It was the perfect opportunity.”

“I think he’ll be back,” Gunho chirped optimistically. “He’s always ended up back at the orphanage, if all your stories about him are true.”

Yunho’s smile was wistful. “I just wish he would’ve told us so we could go with him.”

“And leave Mousey behind?” Gunho gasped, eyes shining innocently. Yunho chuckled and dried his own unshed tears.

He thanked Sangwoo, wherever he was, for bringing him and his brother back together, however short lived.

“Don’t worry, we won’t leave Mousey behind,” he sighed, turning to face his brother fully. “But whatever happens, I’m going to get us out for good one day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a hot sec since I updated this one I know 😅 Stay tuned for more spinoff updates and of course a main series chapter soon 😏 don’t forget to comment <3

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Distant Daylight! There will be more chapters to this, and also more spinoffs for other ATEEZ members, so please give lots of love <3


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